Unbreakable Glass
by Singerdiva01
Summary: Set post Epiphanies. As President Roslin regains her strength after her improbable cure & deals with the implications of how she survived, Admiral Adama & Billy conspire to protect her from overdoing it. Both Bill & Laura sort out what "the kiss" meant & might mean now that she's going to live. Spoilers through Epiphanies. **in progress**
1. Chapter 1

_Somehow I doubt he'd be this concerned about President Adar._

Cottle hid the smile the thought threatened to bring to his lips and turned toward the pair arguing in front of him. The President of the Twelve Colonies was seated on the bed next to her ever present black bag and was, for just the second time in a week, fully dressed. She was still more pale than she should be and so thin it was almost painful to look at her. However, her voice carried with surprising strength as she glared up at the Admiral who was hovering protectively by her side. His worried, comforting presence had become a familiar one in Life Station in the five days since her cancer had miraculously disappeared.

"I can walk, Bill. I will not be seen being wheeled through the halls of Galactica. The press is already saying I'm too weak to make decisions and, with you in and out of here at all hours, they're saying you're taking advantage of it to control me and the government."

President Roslin put her hand to her head for a brief moment, trying to force back a headache caused by this argument and the knowledge that she'd need to expose herself to the wolves known as the Colonial Press Corps as soon as possible. She saw the twin looks of concern the small gesture elicited from both men in the room and dropped her hand with an annoyed sigh.

Bill considered asking the president if she was alright but saw the look on her face and decided against it. He was not, however, done arguing with her.

"You're not so weak I can control you, obviously, but you're still recovering. It's a long walk to the hangar deck and you don't need to be needlessly expending energy you don't have." Bill's tone made it clear that he was more than a little displeased that he didn't actually have the control over Laura attributed to him by the press.

She shot him the look that she used with nap deprived kindergarteners and unruly Quorum members alike. Seeing that his reasoning was not going to have any effect on the president, the Admiral turned to his old friend and chief medical expert for backup. "Doc, what do you think?"

Cottle groaned inwardly before joining the fray. "Madame President, you can walk but the Admiral here is right. You're going to have limited reserves of energy for a while and you'll have to learn that doing one thing means you probably won't be able to do another."

He paused at her icy glare and was about to continue when Adama interrupted again.

"Expending energy needlessly like shuttling back and forth every day from Colonial One?"

Cottle raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this line of questioning was going. The president, however, was not confused and her voice was sharp as she turned her glare once again from the doctor to her self-appointed protector.

"No. That discussion is settled. I will return to Colonial One and come back every day for a week to see him," she said, thrusting her finger in Cottle's direction angrily. "I will not be staying on Galactica. Did you not hear me the first time about the need to restore the trappings of the government as soon as possible?"

_He wanted her to stay on his ship. Likely in his quarters. Now that he definitely would not have done for Adar._

Cottle decided he'd wasted enough time listening to the leaders of the fleet bicker at each other. As he took out a cigarette, he addressed them both.

"Ok, expending energy needlessly is this argument." He pointed at the president with the unlit butt. "I'm not going to sentence you to living with him; I think you two would kill each other and while I don't mind, some might. You are free to go as long as you take it easy and come back here every day for the next week to let me run tests and make sure we've really beaten this frakker. I mean it, Madam President. Take it easy. No more than four hours of work a day, no staying up all night reading reports. You will eat three meals a day, you will just rest and let your body sort itself out. If I hear you are breaking the rules, I'll give you to him." He punctuated his last point by jerking a finger at the Admiral and turning to leave the room.

When he turned back, he saw the president giving the Admiral a gleeful look of victory. However, her face fell when he remembered what he'd returned to say. "Oh, and use the damn chair, Laura." He left and stayed gone this time, missing the look of victory that Bill now wore on his face.

Ignoring it, she moved to get off the bed, purposefully angling away from the arm Bill was offering for support. But as she stood, spots dotted her vision and the room tilted to the side. Reluctantly, she took his arm and stood up straighter, hoping he hadn't noticed the momentary blip of weakness.

No such luck. Bill moved to stand in front of her, moving both his hands to rest firmly on her upper arms, pushing her gently back to the bed. "Alright, sit down. This is too much for you, too quickly. I'm going to get Cottle."

She pushed him back with a strength that shocked both of them. "No, Bill. I'm fine. I just got up too fast and got a little dizzy. That's a good thing; it means I'm still alive. I swear to Gods if you do anything that messes with me getting out of this place in the next five minutes my first order of resuming business will be finding a new Admiral."

Bill smiled but the worry hadn't left his eyes. He released her arms but stayed rooted in place, almost sure she would collapse as soon as he let go. She sensed what he was thinking and rolled her eyes, brushing past him to take the few steps to the wheelchair and sitting down slowly.

"Get my bag and get me out of here, Bill." She felt slightly guilty for barking orders at a man who'd helped save her life. She added, more softly, "please."

The Admiral nodded, swooping the bag off the bed and settling it gently across her lap. If he noticed there were three days worth of files tucked underneath her extra clothes, he wisely decided not to mention it.

As Admiral Adama took the handles of the chair and began to push her through the exit of Life Station, Laura sighed at the show they would be giving Galactica's crew. The most powerful man in the world wheeling the most powerful woman left in the world, now weak and certainly painfully thin, through the halls of his ship. A feminist used to projecting a collected and powerful facade at all times, Laura bristled at this humiliating blow to her hard-earned image.

However, as they rolled through the halls, she had to admit she was a tiny bit grateful that the two men had ganged up on her and forced her to use the chair. It was much further than she remembered to the hangar deck - she'd never noticed the distance before the cancer stole her strength and she'd been forced to admit several weeks ago that she could no longer travel for meetings off of Colonial One.

As they continued to the shuttle, crew members stopped, gasped, and threw off salutes that the president knew were directed at her. She straightened her back as much as possible and set her face in her presidential mask, nodding in response to each expertly bended elbow with a practiced mix of solemnity and gratitude. She would never admit to anyone, especially the Admiral, that even that small show of strength had tired her by the time they reached the door of the waiting Raptor.

Bill stopped, set the brake on the chair, and moved to the president's side. He bent down to put his arm around her waist but stopped when he felt her body tense and a sharp gasp escape her throat. Her voice low to avoid being overheard by the pilots and crew milling about to see the resurrected president for themselves, she whispered an order and a threat at the older man.

"If you try to pick me up, if you do anything other than take my hand, I _will_ have to find a new Admiral because you will be dead." She said this with a smile he knew was meant for everyone else in the room but him.

Noticing their growing audience for the first time, Bill pasted on his own practiced smile and nodded, moving in front of the president to take her hand. She put her small one in his and leveraged her weight against him. Her only concession was placing her other hand on his shoulder and using it to balance herself as she stood. Once upright, she nodded reassuringly at him and he shifted to allow her to take his arm before slowly leading her to the stairs. Once they reached the top one, she turned slowly, forcing the Admiral to shift so as not to drop his hold on her.

She smiled radiantly as she looked out over the gathered crowd. Some faces barely masked disbelief, most seemed reverential. In a strong but quiet voice the president addressed her supporters and the deck fell eerily silent as bodies moved closer to catch her words.

"I'd like to thank all of you for your prayers and well wishes over the past few weeks. I'm immeasurably grateful to have been given a second chance at serving as your president and I look forward to getting back to the business of finding Earth and ensuring the survival of the human race. As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the work you do, as members of the Colonial military, to support this, our most important mission."

Admiral Adama looked at the president with equal parts shock, concern, and respect. He felt her slight tug at his arm, indicating she was done and ready to move inside of the Raptor, and paused to address his crew as well.

"Thank you, everyone. You heard the president - time to get back to work!"

As the two leaders disappeared inside the shuttle, a small smattering of applause broke out as the crew began to scatter, following their leaders' orders.

Inside the Raptor, Admiral Adama helped the president turn and settle into the passenger seat. She leaned back into the leather gratefully, closing her eyes, a small and decidedly satisfied smile playing on her lips. She made one of her small humming sounds, the one that the Admiral had learned to read as a sign of pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, Bill was looking down at her disapprovingly. He narrowed his eyes and addressed her roughly, careful not to be overheard by Hotdog, the shuttle pilot assigned with flying her back to Colonial One.

"You just can't resist an audience, can you, Madame President? That was quite the stunt."

She didn't even try to mitigate the look of annoyance that passed across her face. "Bill, you're never going to learn about politics, are you? That little speech will be all over the ship in an hour and by the end of the day, the fleet will be talking about how I gave a full length address on the hangar deck. I need to make that the story, rather than you wheeling me through your ship looking half dead." The implication that his protectiveness had made her exert herself in a way that would have been unnecessary hung in the air. Only she knew that she'd written the short statement in her head early that morning and would have delivered it no matter what.

Duly chastened, the Admiral simply nodded and turned to retrieve the wheelchair, which he folded and placed in the small cargo area normally used for storing small bags. He settled down next to the president and started to fasten his seatbelt, noting that the president had secured her own restraints during his brief absence.

"Where do you think you're going, Admiral? Last time I checked, you're on your ship," the president said, exasperated.

"I'm escorting precious fleet cargo. Top military priority," he quipped, hoping the levity would head off an argument.

She shook her head forcefully. "Oh, no. Billy will be waiting for me when I get there to treat me like a breakable object and force me into bed even though it's the middle of the damn morning. I cannot and will not deal with both of you at the same time."

He considered her words and, remembering Cottle's earlier point about unnecessary arguments, decided not to push it. He dropped the seat belt straps, stood, and sharply saluted her, just as the members his crew had done. His voice was warm but his tone slightly hurt as he addressed her with a formality specific to members of the military.

"It's been an honor to have you on board, President Roslin. I'm glad we will have that honor for a long time to come. Please let me know if there is anything else we can do for you."

She nodded her thanks sharply and he knew he was dismissed. He turned to the pilot who'd been trying to disappear into his flight suit as he waited for the leaders of the fleet to finish arguing.

Getting close to the young man's ear, the Admiral said softly, "Hotdog, get her back safe. And when you get there, help her. She's not as strong as she thinks she is." The pilot nodded, answering with a louder than intended, "yes, sir!"

As he turned to go, he chanced a glance at Laura, whose eyes were closed, head resting once again on the headrest of the seat. Her eyelids were thin, almost translucent veins giving them a light blue color. Her pale skin betrayed dark circles under her eyes and her delicate hands looked fragile in her lap. He didn't know if she'd fallen asleep or had simply expected this appraisal and didn't want to endure it. Deciding it was probably the latter, he resisted the urge to scoop her up and carry her back to his quarters, never to be let out of his sight again, and instead trotted quickly down the steps onto the hangar deck with practiced ease.

As he headed back to CIC, Bill Adama considered the overwhelming, almost primal urge to protect that Laura Roslin brought out in him.

_I just don't want to do this alone. She's good at her job and I certainly didn't want to be left with Gaius frakking Baltar._

Bill stopped his own train of thought, daring to think about the chaste kiss he'd impulsively shared with her the day he'd given her his Admiral's pips. He'd been wondering since that moment what compelled him to be so bold as to actually kiss the president of the Twelve Colonies.

_She was dying. I wasn't sure I'd ever see her again. I was grateful for the gesture, for blessing my leadership with some of the last remaining strength she had. It made her happy and that was all I wanted to do. Give back to her. _

They hadn't discussed the kiss or its implications since her improbable cure. After visiting the cult leader in the brig, she'd been spent and mostly slept for the next two days. He was still beating himself up for allowing her, even helping her, go down to the brig and tire herself out so thoroughly. He'd wanted to believe that she could just bounce back and immediately be the vibrant woman he'd met, and hated, on the day the world ended.

Dr. Cottle had quickly disabused him of that hope, explaining in quiet tones that the cure was by no means certain to be permanent and, even if it was, the president's lungs had suffered irreparable damage during her illness. He'd lectured her sternly, over and over, that overdoing it could send her right back to her deathbed. In a private conference the doctor had ordered with him and Billy, he'd warned them that it would be weeks before she was at full strength, that she would need physical therapy to regain lost muscle tone, and that she needed to be watched for symptoms that suggested her body was rejecting the Cylon blood that saved her life. Since he'd never done anything remotely like the treatment she'd received, he couldn't tell them what those symptoms might be. It could, terrifyingly, be anything.

_I can't lose her again. Even if she hates me for it, I won't let her kill herself._

He thought of the kiss again. Once she'd woken up and started arguing with him, Cottle, and Billy about working from bed and holding meetings in sick bay, she'd treated him with a cool kindness, erecting the same professional barriers that were knocked down that night on Colonial One.

_But she muttered my name while she slept._

He'd walked into her room to check on her late the night of the visit to the brig. At first, he thought he'd imagined her whispering his name. The second time, he thought she might be calling him and had stepped closer to the bed to answer. But she turned slightly on her side, away from him, and it was clear she was lost in slumber.

_What the hell was she dreaming about? Why does she want me in her sleep and then push me away when she's awake?_

The Admiral shook his head to clear his thoughts as he stepped back into CIC. Laura Roslin was a mystery to be solved. He liked mysteries and he was for damn sure going to make sure she was around long enough to get to the final chapter.

Adama stepped onto the bridge and addressed Lt. Dualla. "Dee, get me Mr. Keikaya on Colonial One, please." He noticed a slight blush on her cheeks as she connected her boss with her beau and filed that away for future use if necessary.

Picking up the headset, he addressed the young man who had improbably become his civilian XO in a very important mission.

"She's all yours, Billy, and she's in quite a mood. Good luck and don't let her bully you into letting her overdo it. Stubborn woman is already trying to work herself back to the grave." He disconnected the call and turned his attention back to running his ship.


	2. Chapter 2

When Billy drew back the curtain and entered the president's private bedroom the next morning to wake her, he was surprised to find her propped up in bed, glasses on the bridge of her nose, writing intently on a notepad. She looked up and smiled at his entrance, lightly chirping, "Good morning, Billy!"

He eyed her and the notepad and noticed, for the first time, the pile of folders sitting on the table next to her makeshift bed. He wondered for a moment how she'd gotten them - he'd purposefully hidden anything remotely relevant before forcing her to bed the afternoon before.

"Good morning, Madame President. I'm surprised to find you up." His voice was a little too bright and Laura fought back a rising tide of annoyance that she could tell was going to be her companion for the foreseeable future.

She used her best teacher tone to correct him. "I'm awake, not up. Be precise with your words, Billy." She giggled at her own joke and didn't care that her aide was obviously not as amused.

He decided to ignore her and press on with the most important business of the morning: getting her to eat something and managing to keep her in the bed for as long as possible.

"I'll get your breakfast and your tea." He paused, trying to tread lightly. "Whatcha working on there, ma'am?"

The president responded casually. "My remarks for the press conference this afternoon. Might as well get that obnoxious task out of the way as soon as possible."

Billy's eyes went wide. "Madame President, I don't think you're in any condition yet to be talking to the press. How about we release another statement - it's explaining away and around the specifics of your cure that you're worried about, right? - and then set a conference for later this week?"

The president gave one of her satisfied hums and didn't even bother to be annoyed as she'd already cut him off at the pass. "It's a bit late for that. I sent word to the wires this morning to be in the press room on Galactica at 14:00." Her next words were not issued with such glee. "I'll report to Cottle after that, as promised."

_Oh, Gods, Billy thought. The Admiral and Cottle are going to kill me. Less than 24 hours in my care and she's already pulled a fast one. And how the frak long has she been awake?_

"Madame President, I don't think Cottle is going to like this very much. You're supposed to be recovering, not inviting vultures to rip you apart." He knew his voice had taken on a bit of a whine but didn't care.

She shot him a look and adopted the teacher tone again. "Now, Billy. Precision again. Dr. Cottle said four hours of work per day. He never said I couldn't hold a press conference in those allotted hours."

_And how the hell long have you already been working already this morning?_

Billy ignored the urge to shout the words in his head and decided he'd had enough of this argument. He knew very well that if she cancelled the press availability now that it had been announced the reporters would assume she hadn't been up for it and she'd have to get up in front of them anyway just to prove she could.

"I'll get your breakfast," he said instead, his tone clipped. He turned and walked out the door without waiting for an acknowledgement. The president just shook her head and turned back to the task of figuring out how to explain to the press how she'd recovered from certain death without telling them she now carried Cylon blood in her veins.

In the galley, Billy heated up an unappetizing serving of algae, started the water to boil, and consulted the paper Cottle had given him on how much chamalla to give the president and when. While the Admiral obsessed over the damage to her lungs and muscles, Billy worried about her succumbing to withdrawals from the powerful drug as she was weaned off of it.

He recalled with some satisfaction how the blood had drained from Admiral Adama's face as he told him about finding the president slumped on the floor in the brig, holding her head, muttering incoherently and moaning in pain, after his idiot of an XO had refused to help access her medication. Obviously, neither she nor either of the Tigh's had ever told the old man about the incident and Billy refused to let the him forget that it was his fault the presdent was in there in the first place. From the low growl the Admiral emitted after Billy had finished the story, it was clear to the young aide that he'd probably exacted revenge on the old drunk as well. That fact made him happy without reservation.

Finished arranging the items on a tray, Billy exited the galley and re-entered the president's bedroom. She nodded a thanks as he sat the food down on the table near her without looking up from her notes, almost daring him to challenge her again. He didn't take the bait. He simply went back to his desk and took a deep breath before calling Dee to request a connection with the Admiral.

"SHE WHAT? No way in hell is that happening." Adama's shout was exactly the response Billy had expected when he relayed the news of the president's upcoming press conference to the older man.

"I know and I'm sorry, sir. She woke up before I got here and alerted the wires to be in Galactica's press room at 14:00." Billy steeled himself for more yelling.

"No. This is a military ship, I am in command, and I will refuse her access to my press room." Adama was shaking with rage, trying to decide if it was aimed at Roslin or at Billy Keikaya. He quickly decided there was enough to go around.

"You could do that, sir, but then she'll just hold it on Colonial One. We can't very well cancel it now and, personally, I'd prefer she be on Galactica and closer to Cottle should anything happen." Billy had already worked out this rationalization in his head. It seemed like a good argument to both placate the Admiral and look out for the president's health at the same time.

Admiral Adama paused to consider it, realizing the boy had a point. Her holding the press conference on his ship also meant that his presence there wouldn't be questioned and he was for damn sure going to be there to keep those frakkers from stressing Laura to the point of collapse. He'd already decided he was willing to shoot anyone who threatened her recovery and worry about the consequences later.

"Alright, frak it. Damn stubborn woman. I'll meet you both on the deck at 13:30. Don't tell her I'm coming. It's not up for debate." He disconnected the line by slamming down the headset, drawing curious looks from the officers working in CIC.


	3. Chapter 3

Billy was pleased with himself at having managed to keep President Roslin in bed until two hours before her press conference, when she insisted on getting up to shower and dress. He was relieved to find her napping three of the ten times he'd checked on her, although he had a sneaking suspicion that at least one of those times she had been faking sleep to avoid his disapproving look.

For her part, Laura considered it a not small victory that she'd managed to keep Billy from actually following her into the shower. A joking comment about how it would be worth it for him to wait until she regained her curves before trying to see her naked had caused the young man to turn a deep red and he'd quickly agreed to settle for waiting outside the door in case she needed him.

She sighed deeply once she'd closed that door, leaning against it and relishing her first moment alone in what seemed like years. She started the water to let it heat up and turned to the mirror. She gazed pointedly into the glass as she undressed, something she hadn't done while dying because, she'd told herself rationally, there was no point in mourning a body that wouldn't be around for much longer. Now that it seemed she was going to live, she was overcome by an overwhelming desire to see the damage.

She almost gasped when she removed her nightgown and saw, by turning to the side, how her ribs jutted out both in the front and back. Her collar bones, which she'd once vainly considered her most alluring attribute next to her hair, also looked like they were going to poke out of her skin, along with her hip bones. Her arms were dotted with bruises from IV's and injections and she already knew the ones that looked like fingers were from when Cottle and his team held her down as she had a seizure. There was an unidentified bruise between her breasts and while she knew she could ask Cottle or Billy what had caused it, she didn't want to get yelled at by the good doctor for being ungrateful or cause Billy to cry yet again.

She touched her left breast lightly, something she'd done frequently when no one was looking over the past few days. She almost couldn't believe how the tumor, whose weight and curse she'd registered with every step since her diagnosis, was gone and that she felt no pain upon touching the spot. She remembered how just a few weeks ago she'd had to stifle a cry as Kara Thrace hugged her suddenly, excited about the successful Tylium mission and completely unaware that Laura's own shocked reaction was due to almost unbearable pain rather than annoyance with the break in the formality supposedly due to her position.

As she finished her inspection, a realization hit her like a truck and she grabbed the sink to keep from physically registering the blow. She looked like her mother the day before she died, the last time she'd gently bathed her broken body and listen to her cry softly at the pain of being touched. Shuddering at the memory and the knowledge of how close she came to meeting the same fate, Laura turned away from the mirror and stepped carefully over the lip of the shower into the hot water.

As she let it run down her back and slowly permeate her thick locks to reach her skull, she took stock of her body's current condition, the things she couldn't see in the mirror. Her mind was crystal clear for the first time in weeks and her thoughts connected as quickly and effectively as they had before the whole ordeal began. It was as if the synapses were singing, joyously, "we're alive!" and she smiled as she imagined the feel of of her hands rubbing shampoo into her hair stimulating the unseen neurons into a lively dance.

While she was loathe to admit it, her body hadn't caught up as quickly. She was sore all over, which Cottle said was because her muscles had begun to atrophy while she was sick. To her, the pain seemed deeper, like it had taken up residence in her bones, and small things that shouldn't hurt now did. The couch that served as her bed was almost as uncomfortable as the hard cot in life station and she'd spent the previous night waking up to sharp pains in her ribs and hips. While she'd resigned herself to tiring quickly while sick, she was annoyed that Cottle had been right about having to be careful about what she chose to expend energy on now that she'd been given a new lease on life. The shortness of breath at the slightest exertion was also a symptom she desperately hoped disappeared sooner rather than later.

As she began to wash the soap out of her hair, she forced herself to think about the circumstances that led to all of this. She was supposed to be dead, had resigned herself to being dead, and yet she wasn't. Because Bill Adama had decided to let Baltar experiment on her and it had worked. And now, for better or worse or whatever the hell else it might mean, she was bodily connected and indebted to the enemy who'd destroyed her home world.

_He had no right to make that decision for me. He had no way of knowing if I wanted to live. He wanted me to live and he made it so, without my consent. What if he highjacked our journey to Earth? What if I was supposed to die and now the Gods are angry and are going to keep us stranded in space until we're too weak to fight the Cylons or we simply die out? What right did he have to force the human pilot to save me, the woman who'd hours earlier ordered his child aborted?_

Shaking her head to clear that thought from her mind, she reached for the conditioner and moved on to the other questions weighing on her mind. What was this Cylon blood inside of her going to do? What did it mean for her as president? What did it mean for her as the human Laura?

_He could have put the whole fleet in danger by allowing the president to become, at least somewhat, part Cylon. What if the blood from that fetus makes me do things I don't intend to do? Does he care so much for Laura that he forgot what a risk he was taking in forcing President Roslin to become intricately intertwined with the enemy? _

The implications of her thoughts suddenly overwhelmed her and she started to feel slightly dizzy but she couldn't stop them from swimming around in her brain.

_How in the worlds can he see Lee and Kara as military assets that can be risked but will turn to the Cylons for help because he doesn't want me to die? When he kissed me that night I felt alive and happy for the first time in...forever. It was just a kind gesture to a dying woman, of course. Comforting a friend he thought he'd never see again. Right? What the hell is wrong with me that the first thing I thought to be grateful for when I woke up was that I'd get to see him again?_

At that thought, Laura was suddenly overcome by the dizziness and she just managed to turn off the water before sinking, she hoped silently, to the floor of the shower and putting her head between her knees.

_Breathe, Laura. The last thing you need is Billy finding you passed out naked in the shower. This will pass, just concentrate._

She focused on taking slow, deep breaths and was grateful that the dizziness seemed to be abating. She was suddenly incredibly hot and knew she had to find the strength to stand and get out of the humid prison the small bathroom had become. After another minute of slow breaths, she took hold of the lip of the shower and willed herself into a standing position, grabbing the wall of the shower for balance as she got herself upright. Another session of measured breathing later, she carefully stepped out of the shower and, grabbing the towel on the sink as she used the plaster as a support, moved to sit down on the toilet to start drying off.

While she was pleased with her little accomplishment - she rolled her eyes to herself as she realized that not passing out in the shower could be considered an accomplishment these days - there had evidently been too long of a lull for Billy between the water being turned off and her emergence from the bathroom. He knocked on the door insistently and she could tell he was trying not to sound panicked as he called to her.

"Madame President, are you alright in there?"

Making sure her voice was steady and light, she responded. "Of course, Billy. I'm just dealing with my hair."

She waited to see if Billy took her words at face value, counting on the fact that the young man knew very little about women and their grooming rituals. He evidently did as he sounded a bit confused when he answered back, "Sorry, Madam President. Take your time. Just call if you need any help."

Laura stifled a giggle as she expertly towel dried her hair, untangled the locks with her fingers, and reached for the discarded blue robe on the floor. She found the clean underwear she'd carried in with her, pulled them slowly over her legs, and used the toilet seat to leverage herself into a standing position. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the onslaught of concern called Billy Keikaya.

The young man was, as promised, lurking at the door and as soon as it opened, he was there to take her weight onto his arm. As Laura stepped from the steam of the head and into the cool air of the main cabin, something about the temperature change made her light-headed and she sighed as she leaned on Billy for support. She held them in place, looking down at the floor for a moment before raising her head and looking toward her bed.

Before moving, Billy asked softly, "are you ok?"

Laura nodded resolutely. "Yes. I think I just need to lie down for a little bit." She hated how her voice sounded now, hoarse and somehow permanently weak. She hoped that this too would fade away and soon.

Laura let Billy lead her slowly to the couch and help her sit down. She put her hands underneath her hair and carefully lay down, arranging the auburn mass in a fan-like splay across the pillow to try to keep it from becoming a frizzy mess while she napped.

She looked up at Billy, who was still looking concerned as he tried to parse out whether or not he needed to stay. "Alright, thank you Billy. Why don't you go take a look at my notes on possible questions and answers for the press conference and we'll discuss them on the shuttle over?"

He nodded but hesitated before leaving the room. Laura smiled gently at him as she realized once again that she was not the only one who was going to have to get used to the idea of her life continuing on.

"You don't have to watch me sleep anymore, Billy. I promise I'll wake up," she said, her voice suddenly filled with emotion. She knew, even though he'd never voiced it, that his greatest fear had been trying to wake her one day and being unable to. Before his eyes could fill with tears, she added a light, playful tone to her next sentence. "However, if you even think of letting me sleep rather than do that press conference, I can't say the same will be true for you tomorrow."

That line got the intended laugh and Billy made a motion of crossing his heart in silent promise before leaving the room.

As Laura closed her eyes, she wondered with whether it was really the heat that made her head swim a few minutes ago or the shockingly relevant question of whether William Adama wanted her alive to see if they could be more than just friends. Or, was it the even more terrifying but no less relevant question that she might want that too?


	4. Chapter 4

"Anna first for a softball, I'll remember," President Roslin said to Billy as their Raptor approached Galactica. They both assumed the gossip columnist would ask how she was feeling or some equally frivolous question. Roslin knew it would likely be the only one.

Billy had kept his promise to wake the president in time to dress for the press conference and he'd been pleased to discover that the short nap had revived her. In the final days of her illness, no amount of rest could touch the overwhelming exhaustion that she'd resigned herself to enduring for the short remainder of her life.

He was further buoyed by the humorous lesson on women's fashion the stylish older woman imparted as they surveyed her pitiful wardrobe, trying to decide which of her suit combinations made her look less like, as she had termed it with a laugh, "death warmed over." Once they'd settled on her black pants, matching jacket, and lilac top, Billy declared that she looked beautiful. He smiled now, remembering how the president had beamed and playfully tousled his hair, announcing that he finally seemed to be learning something about women.

Laura put the last of the papers in to the folder, slipped it into the bag at her feet, and closed her eyes to listen to the familiar sounds of the Raptor's docking procedure. She focused on the soft whir of the engines and tried to calm the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Her anxiety, she was reluctant to admit, was not a result of the impending onslaught from the press. She'd been in politics long enough to be confident in her ability to handle any question on her feet with relative grace. Her mind was on other matters, the kind she'd learned from hard experience that she handled not nearly as well as political ones.

_I'll see him today. It's his ship and I always see him on his ship. We have to talk. About the Cylon baby. About him ordering its parents to keep me alive. About...kissing me. Oh Gods, Bill, why the hell did you do that?_

"Madame President, we're here." Billy's soft voice roused the president from her thoughts and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

"Time to get this show on the road then." Laura gestured to the bag at her feet and Billy slung it over his arm, offering his hand to the president to help her stand and his arm to lean on as they made their way to the door, which was slowly sliding open with a mechanical purr.

Bill Adama, standing at attention on the deck, saw her legs first. Legs that were, he noted with regret, covered by fabric. He waited as the door finished ascending and took the few steps up the stairs to grab the arm of the president that was not currently in her aide's protective possession.

Laura's face registered surprise as she watched Bill bound up the steps. She was usually greeted upon landing at Galactica by a superior officer but the Admiral often left that task to one of his subordinates, choosing instead to wait for her to come to wherever they were meeting.

"Madame President, welcome aboard." Bill's voice was tight and his smile, she noticed, didn't reach his eyes.

The President stood between the two men protectively holding her arms and realized the steps from the Raptor were too narrow to accommodate a party of three. Both men seemed to have come to this conclusion as well but neither dropped his hold on the president.

Bill spoke first, now struggling to keep his voice light and calm.

"Billy, how about this. I'll take her on my ship, you take her on yours." He locked eyes with the young man, the look in them one part pleading, one part threatening. Both been were too absorbed in their staring match to catch the look of horror that quickly turned to anger as it passed across the president's face while she processed the words.

Billy, however, noticed her body tense at his side and immediately decided to give in rather than upset her. He carefully unlaced his arm from the woman at his side and took a step back. Bill nodded his thanks and moved toward the steps, sure that President Roslin would follow his movement.

Once they were on the deck, Laura looked at Bill and then at Billy, who'd scampered down the steps right after the two leaders and taken up his rightful position at the president's side once again.

"It's good to see you boys have learned to share your favorite toy. I'd give both of you gold star stickers if I could find any." Laura's voice was icy as she invoked her past as a teacher but was controlled and presidential once again as she turned to address the older of her two star students. As she did, the younger one had the decency to look chagrined behind her back.

"Admiral Adama, thank you for the welcome. You didn't have to come all the way down here from CIC to greet me. I'm sure Colonel Tigh would have appreciated the chance to slip into his quarters for a shot before welcoming the president."

Bill ignored the jibe at his best friend and instead proceeded with the mission he'd started planning as soon as he'd hung up on Billy earlier in the day.

"Laura, what are you doing? You know you're not up for a press conference. I think we can have Billy here tell the press that you had to attend to an emergency matter with the Admiral." Bill fully intended to take the president to his quarters and have her rest for an appropriate amount of time before delivering her to Cottle.

The president settled the Admiral with an annoyed look.

_Gods, Bill. When did you turn into such a frakking Neanderthal? _

"Well that would be a lie, Admiral, and it wouldn't do to lie to the press, now would it?"

The two leaders looked at each other, both aware that lying to the press was exactly what she came to do.

Bill, however, was not content to let the issue slide. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Laura…"

She started at the way he said her first name and was almost shocked at how cold her voice was when she addressed him formally. "Yes, Admiral?"

He realized his break in protocol immediately and took in their surroundings. Billy was shifting nervously from foot to foot several feet away and the obviously tense conversation between the military leader and the civilian one was drawing curious looks from nearby crewmen.

Admiral Adama cleared his throat. "As you wish, Madame President. May I escort you to the briefing room?" With her relieved nod, he threaded his arm once again through hers and led her from the deck and through the corridors in silence.

_Well, this isn't exactly what I expected. Doesn't he want to know what I'm going to say to the press about his little stunt? Gods, Bill. Why the hell are you leaving me to deal with this alone? What did I do to deserve this?_

The president was jolted, literally, out of her thoughts as a blur of green tanks and blonde hair barrelled around the corner and knocked directly into her, dislodging her arm from the Admiral's side. Struggling not to lose her balance in her heels, the president grabbed an exposed pipe to steady herself.

Before the president could fully grasp the situation, the Admiral had thrown the blur she now recognized as a sweaty Kara Thrace against the bulkhead, his strong hands on her shoulders holding her tightly in place. The younger woman protested loudly.

"Woah, sir, sorry about that sir. It's just me." Kara wriggled her shoulders to get free but found she couldn't disentangle herself from her commanding officer's furious grasp.

Without letter go of the pilot, Bill glanced over at Laura, who had a shocked look on her face. Billy approached her to put his arm around her but she stopped him by putting her hand up.

"Are you alright?" His voice was almost a growl.

His words shook the president to action. "Of course, Bill. Gods, let her go, she didn't do anything." When he simply glared back at Kara, unmoving, she issued her plea as a presidential order. "Admiral Adama, let her go. Now."

He took his hands off the pilot reluctantly, still glaring at her, and she shook her shoulders as she scooted away from the wall and into the hall, putting distance between herself and the Admiral. Laura was immediately by her side, a genuine grin on her face.

"Kara! It's so lovely to see you!" The president pulled the younger woman into a gentle hug and held it until Kara's body relaxed. The two women shared a tenuous bond but their momentary contact told each party that they were both glad they had more time to figure out exactly what that meant.

As the Lieutenant pulled away, she grasped the president's forearms lightly and smiled back just as genuinely in return. "Madame President! It's great, no it's a miracle to see you!" Looking once again at the glowering man she usually considered a father figure, Kara fixed the president with a look of concern. "I'm sorry I ran into you, ma'am. Did I hurt you? Are you sure you're alright?"

Laura shooked her head, fighting back a laugh she knew would come out as harsh. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm not going to break into pieces. It's him," she said, jabbing her thumb in the Admiral's direction, "that seems to be losing his damn mind."

Privately, Kara agreed. She'd seen her commanding officer deal rationally with hundreds of tense, life-threatening situations and she'd never once seen him overreact in the way he just had. The crew, Starbuck included, had wondered what might happen to the Old Man when the president died. Now the pilot was wondering what the hell had happened to him in the wake of her survival.

However, even Lieutenant Thrace wasn't foolhardy enough to bring it up now. She put a light tone in her voice as she released the president's arms with a gentle squeeze and squared her shoulders toward the exit. "Well, he's got to protect a valuable fleet asset! Sir, ma'am." With a sharp nod, the blonde turned quickly and continued her run.

_Again with the valuable fleet asset? Did someone turn me into a Viper while I was asleep?_

The president watched Starbuck's retreating form before turning back to Bill, opening her mouth to demand an explanation for what had just happened. He cut her off by taking her arm roughly once again and nudging her forward. "Come on, let's get you out of these halls and somewhere safe."

_Somewhere safe? I am safe. Or, am I? What are you doing, Bill?_

Laura noticed his grip on her arm was tighter than before and she felt a jolt of panic go through her body. She hated being trapped more than almost anything else.

"Bill?" She spoke in a whisper, so as not to alert Billy, who was still tagging along behind them. "Bill, you're hurting me."

_And scaring me._

"Sorry," he replied gruffly, loosening his grip on her arm and slowing his pace. After just a couple more yards they reached the entrance to the small office attached to the briefing room and the Admiral ushered the president inside. As Billy closed the door behind him, he saw the Admiral pull out a chair, take the president by the waist, and gently force her down into it.

The look on her face alarmed the young aide. She looked sad, and alone, and...frightened. The fact that she didn't protest but began digging furiously into the bag he'd laid by the chair made him even more worried.

Both men watched as the president pulled her notes out onto the table and started scribbling on the pages. She seemed intent on ignoring them, lost in her thoughts. The Admiral mumbled an excuse about making sure security was in place for the conference and shuffled for the door, promising to be right back.

As he exited the room, Laura released a long sigh and stopped writing, bringing her head into her hands. Billy approached her cautiously.

"Madame President? Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?"

She lifted her head and gave him a tired look. "I'm ok, Billy. I think I just need a few minutes alone. Can you go get me some water and come back in a bit?"

Billy nodded and turned on his heel toward the door, wondering what had upset the president so deeply.

Once he was gone, Laura fought back tears as she studied her notes without seeing the words.

_Gods, Bill. Why did you keep me alive just to treat me like I died? I needed you. I needed you to help me figure this out. I needed us to be on the same page, like we always are. A valuable fleet asset? Right. A pitiful broken woman, not a president. Not even a friend, right, Bill? _

This would be the first press conference President Roslin had done since Kobol at which the Admiral didn't know what she was going to say. It was the first time since their truce that they hadn't sat together and haggled over the language, the delivery, the possible ramifications.

As Laura gathered her notes and attempted to get a handle on her thoughts, she had one final, crushing revelation.

_He never saw you as anything more than tragic. He didn't see you as an equal. He was just pitying you. And now he doesn't know what to do now that you're not dead. How stupid, Laura, how weak of you to think it was anything more. _

Laura sighed, pushing the thought of the gentle way he'd kissed her out of her mind. It was the one thing that made her doubt her own conclusions. But, after all, a pity kiss for a dying woman wasn't supposed to have lasting consequences.

_Maybe he should have thought about that before letting me live._


	5. Chapter 5

President Roslin took a deep breath and stepped into the press room. Cameras clicked and the assembled reporters stood hastily, starting to verbalize questions before she took her place in front of them.

Billy and Admiral Adama followed a step behind as they entered the room. Billy took his place on the wall to the left of her podium, close enough to end the questions when she wanted but out of the frame of the photos. Admiral Adama, less schooled in politics and caring a whole lot less about what the pictures looked like, moved to stand several steps behind her and to the right. She shot him a look as he took his place, hoping he'd take it as a hint to move back, but he was already caught up in glowering at the press corps.

Sighing inwardly, knowing that the image of him standing angrily near her and shooting looks at the reporters would be the one distributed to the fleet, Laura stepped confidently up to the podium and raised a hand to quiet the room. The journalists took their seats and leaned forward hungrily to devour her words.

"Good afternoon. I would first like to say how much of an honor it is to see each and every one of you again. As unlikely as that may seem."

The journalists tittered politely in response.

"Secondly, I would like to thank the entire fleet for their prayers and thoughts over the past few weeks. Your messages of support have given me tremendous comfort and strength and I will be forever humbled by and thankful for your warm wishes." She cleared her throat before continuing, the easy part of the address now done.

"During the last few weeks of my illness, I've been doing my best to serve you, the people. But there have been some things I could not attend to and I fully recognize that your government may have failed you at one point or another during this time. I would like to offer my apologies alongside my uttermost assurance that I have resumed and can and will attend to all of the responsibilities of my office. I am incredibly grateful for that opportunity."

The reporters stood to shout questions but the president silenced them with another graceful movement of her hand.

"Cancer is a curse for which we as a species have yet to find a cure. I'm here today because of the work of some of our most brilliant scientists, first and foremost your Vice President Gaius Baltar, who are working to rid the world of a disease that has taken so many of our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and friends. I know some of you will ask why I lived and so many more will die and I will say honestly that I don't know the answer. The treatment that allows me to stand before you today is highly experimental and is by no means assuredly successful or the cure we look for. But I promise you, as your president and as a survivor of an almost surely fatal illness, that I am committed to supporting the research to make sure that one day soon we have a cure that works and is available to everyone."

Bill Adama, watching protectively from just behind the president, seemed to be the only person in the room who noticed that the she slipped her politician's mask for one moment during her speech, starting slightly and he was sure involuntarily, when she invoked her Vice President's name. Before he had a chance to think on it too long, the president opened the floor for questions and the room became a cacophony of shouts.

Remembering Billy's advice, President Roslin called on Anna, the fleet's premiere gossip columnist, first.

"Madame President, welcome back. How are you feeling?"

Laura smiled, inwardly grateful that some things never changed.

"Well, I'm not dead, so that feels great." Pausing for the laughter to die down before continuing, she said, "It will be a while before you see me down at the gym but the doctor assures me I should be back to full strength in a few weeks. Next question." She looked out over the assembled reporters and extended a graceful finger toward a sandy haired reporter in the front row. "Danny?"

"Madame President, you've said that your treatment was highly experimental but it obviously worked. Why are you denying the same miracle to the men and women of the fleet?"

Laura considered her words carefully before responding.

"Well, Danny, as I said, we're not sure it was successful, for one, or that the side effects of it won't be worse than the cancer. I refuse to allow the members of this fleet to be used as lab rats until we're sure that this or any other experimental treatment is safe. Thank you. Playa, you have the next question."

The young, blonde reporter stood and fixed the president with a sharp gaze. "According to you, you are the prophet of Pythia. With all due respect, Madame President, that means you're supposed to be dead. Does the fact that you're not mean that we are no closer to finding Earth or that you were lying about the scriptures in order to curry religious support in the upcoming election?"

Laura's face remained calm and impassive. A small smile pulled at her lips as she answered, her voice calm but reinforced with steel.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Playa, by still breathing. By definition, we're all dying, and by their nature, the scriptures are unclear. However, the information we gained on Kobol has proved accurate and I still believe that we are on the path to Earth. As for trying to win an election I was pretty sure I wouldn't be around for, I think that's an unfair accusation. I trust that the Gods will reveal their plans on their own schedule."

With that, the reporters started up again, some whispering amongst themselves and others continuing to yell questions. Laura ignored them and, using a teacher trick, kept her voice low to force them to quiet to hear her as she called on Jason from the Gemenon paper.

"Madame President, are you concerned there is an increased risk of assassination by someone who believes your death will lead us to Earth?"

Laura could have sworn she heard Bill growl behind her. She prayed silently that he wouldn't do anything resembling the embarrassing encounter with Kara in the corridor. She also had a sinking feeling her security would be increased sometime in the very near future.

"Well, no, I wasn't until you just brought it up. Thanks for the warning, Jason," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "Next question - Janna?"

"Thank you, Madam President. What would you say to those who now believe that you're a Cylon?"

As the room erupted, Laura gripped the sides of her podium tightly, her knuckles turning white. Bill noticed that her hands trembled before finding the hard wood. This time, he didn't restrain himself. He stepped forward to the President's side and shouted out at the reporters.

"Alright, enough of this. This is over." His voice was hard and gruff and the look on his face was menacing. The president looked over at him, shocked, but immediately focused her eyes back at the assembled press corps.

"It's fine, Admiral. I'm happy to answer and then just one more question because I, we," she paused to shoot a glare at Bill, "have a meeting. I can assure you all that I am not a Cylon. If I were, I would have insisted on coming back twenty years younger and as a blonde."

The tension the Admiral had injected into the room diffused at her joke, with everyone in the room and those listening on the wireless imagining the middle-aged, auburn haired president as a sexy, blonde Cylon. Her message, that if she were a Cylon she'd look a lot better than she did at that moment, seemed to reassure her questioner and, she hoped, the fleet.

Bill did not join in the laughter but remained, glowering, by the president's side, anxiously awaiting the moment he could get the her out of the lion's den.

Laura tried to ignore him as she smiled and indicated that a reporter named Soraya had the last question.

"Madame President, going back to your treatment for a moment, who gave authorization for it to be tried?"

Roslin set her mouth in a firm line before responding. "I did. Now, thank you, everyone, that will be all for today." She turned sharply from the podium and headed out the door without a glance back. The Admiral, surprised by her answer and her quick and strong strides, had to bound toward the door to keep from having it slammed in his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Once the president was safely inside the small room adjoining the one she'd just left, she took two quick steps toward the chair holding her bag and put one hand on it for support. The other went to her mouth and she stood motionless, trying to reign in her emotions.

Billy, who'd entered right after the president and held the door for the still stumbling Admiral, watched the president's back like she was a cobra coiled to attack. Her hands shook but her posture was ramrod straight. Knowledge about women aside, he had enough experience with this particular one to know better than to speak to or, Gods forbid, touch her.

Bill, to his misfortune, wasn't privy to those insights. He saw his Laura's shaking hands and her lean on the chair and misread them as exhaustion. He moved quickly to her side and put a strong hand on her shoulder, either not noticing or again misreading when she jerked away at his touch.

"Come on, Laura. You should sit down now. That was far too much for you to have to go through right now. It's alright; you'll be ok." His tone was calm and reassuring, as if he were talking to an injured animal. He made to move her bag and pull out the chair but she whirled around and stared at him, her features twisted in fury.

"Admiral Adama. You do not decide when I should sit down. You do not decide what is too much for me. And you, do not, I repeat do not, decide when my press conferences are over. You are done deciding for me. Are we clear on that?" She kept her green eyes locked on his blue ones, daring him to challenge her.

Bill didn't step back physically but he knew he was speaking to his Commander in Chief, rather than to his friend, and she was issuing a direct order. He struggled to keep his voice flat as he responded as a good military flak should. "Yes, Madame President."

As she opened her mouth to continue what was bound to be a tirade, Billy stepped forward and spoke tentatively. "Madame President, I'm sorry to interrupt but the press is still right outside and, um, if you two are going to continue this, might I suggest moving to a more private location?"

She kept her glare fixed on the Admiral for a moment longer before looking at Billy, her expression softening. "Yes, of course you're right, Billy." She turned back to the Admiral, her eyes hard again, and pointed her finger at his chest. "We need to talk. Your quarters. Now."

Without waiting for a response to what was obviously not a request, she picked up her bag and moved toward the door. Billy was immediately at her side and she took his arm, not because she needed the support but she wanted the Admiral to see her do it. He got the message and allowed the pair to remain several steps ahead of him as they made their way to his quarters.

Once they'd covered the short distance to the hatch, Laura dropped Billy's arm and smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you, Billy. Why don't you go tell Dr. Cottle I'll be by shortly and then go visit Dee for a bit. I'll find you when I'm ready to return to Colonial One." Billy nodded and made a hasty exit, shooting a sympathetic look at the Admiral.

Once the hatch was fastened behind them, Laura tossed her bag on Bill's desk chair and whirled around to face him, green eyes flashing to gray, her earlier anger now back in full force.

"What the hell was that? How dare you interfere with my press conference? How dare you embarrass me like that? Admiral Adama just has to rescue the damsel in distress? Does a woman president threaten your masculinity so much that you have to humiliate her at every turn?" Her last sentence was delivered as a snarl rather than a shout.

Bill stared at her, hurt and taken aback. Still, he brushed past her and headed for his couch, unsure of how to respond without sounding like a wounded puppy.

The president raised her eyebrows in disbelief at his back, storming to stand in front of him as he was settling in his seat. "Answer me, Admiral. Do not turn your back on me."

He looked up wearily at the president, shocked at how such anger and strength could come from someone who looked so fragile. Realizing he had been ordered to answer, he went with the simplest response he could bring to his lips, voice soft.

"I'm sorry, Madame President. I didn't mean to humiliate you." He knew it wouldn't be good enough but wasn't sure what else to say.

Sure enough, it was not enough for Laura Roslin. She began to pace in front of the couch. "I want you to tell me exactly what you were thinking when you decided to inject me with Cylon blood in some last ditch heroic effort to save me. Is it because you don't believe in the Gods? Get one over on the believers by saving the dying leader? Or you wanted to play the Gods, showing the fleet that you and you alone held my life in your hands?"

Bill Adama sat on the couch, watching the woman stalking before him with shock. He'd never entertained the frightening thought that the cure that saved her life might have changed her in this way. He thought briefly before responding to her fury that he might live to regret saving her life.

Bill looked down at the floor, unable to look up at his president, much less the woman he'd obviously misjudged as a friend. "I just wanted you to live," he mumbled.

The mumbled words infuriated Roslin even more. "What? Speak, Admiral. Look at me when you talk." She grabbed his chin with a graceful hand, making sure it was steady under his weathered cheeks.

Her irrational behavior finally riled the fighter in the old pilot and he looked straight into her eyes as he repeated his words. "I just wanted you to live. Is that why you took credit today, because you thought it would get one over on me? Madame President?" He spoke her title with a hiss, suddenly not caring if he wounded her. She dropped his face and continued pacing.

He didn't have to worry about hurting her. She did one lap and stopped in the middle of the track she was wearing on his carpet to stare at him.

"Took credit? Took credit? Is that what you think I did? I took responsibility for something you did. For something you did to me. Did you ever stop to think for a moment, Bill, that people who are not me who are dying of cancer would wonder why they have to suffer a horrible, painful end while I live? If I started making crazy decisions because you decided me alive as some Cylon monstrosity was better than me dead? I had to tell them it was my decision. If whatever you and Baltar did to me kills me, you still have to be here to lead them. If I start making calls that help the Cylons because of this damn blood and you have to airlock me, it has to be on me and not you because the fleet will still need to be able to trust you."

She finished with a huff, turning her back to him to hide how hard her hands were shaking.

Bill studied his floor for a second more before speaking, his voice clouded with emotion.

"I would never airlock you, Laura."

Instead of his adoration informed words having their intended effect, they further infuriated Roslin. She whirled around to face him, clenching her hands together behind his back.

"I know. I know that, Bill, and that's why you are weak since Boomer shot you. If I did start doing the wrong things, if I suddenly wanted to jump us into a trap you knew was waiting, would you do the right thing? Would you kill me or would you try to save your damsel in distress at your own peril? At the peril of this fleet?"

Bill didn't respond, focused on blinking back tears and studying the rapidly wearing leather soles of his shoes.

President Roslin's voice boomed above him. She'd stopped to glare down at the top of his head and was clearly demanding an audience.

"I would have airlocked you, Bill. I thought you were a Cylon once and I would have put you out the hatch had it been confirmed, without a second of hesitation. I want you to remember that the next time you think I need saving." Laura's cold words reverberated around the cabin before she continued her pacing mission.

Bill Adama remained silent. He was ashamed. He was angry. But mostly, he was confused.

His silence infuriated all the sides of Laura Roslin. Laura the woman, Laura the president, Laura the friend. She stalked back to the couch and grabbed Bill's shoulders, her voice angry and pleading.

"SAY SOMETHING. Scream at me. DO SOMETHING." She shook the arms in her grip, one that he registered as surprisingly strong, and waited for some sort of response. Half of her wanted him to throw her away just to show he didn't care if he hurt her. The other half wanted…

_Just grab me, Bill. I'm right here. If you meant anything with that kiss, grab me and throw me against your couch and show me that you think of me as more than a pitiful, broken object. Do it, Bill. Be strong enough to see if you can try to break me. _

When a few moments passed and Laura realized Bill was lost in the carpet yet again, she released his arms and continued pacing. Her chest hurt, her muscles ached, and she suddenly registered how hard she was breathing.

_Get up, Bill, and hold me before you kill me._

Bill couldn't hear her thoughts. He watched her pace his quarters, numb to any response.

Suddenly, Laura tripped, her heel catching on the carpet. The Admiral watched in terror as the small woman in front of him registered a look of fear on her face before lurching toward the coffee table, trying desperately to steady herself but failing to find a support. In an instant, he was off the couch and on his knees, his strong arms making sure her head didn't come in contact with the wooded edges.

She landed awkwardly, her shoulders hunched toward the floor, his arms around her ribs. She squirmed to get up but he held on tight, hoping she would allow him to speak with his touch since his words had failed him. He felt Laura's whole body trembling and she seemed to be trying to hide how hard she was struggling for breath. He loosened his grip immediately and waited for her to direct the next move.

Released, Laura slowly lifted herself off the ground and turned her back to the man on the carpet, silently struggling to regain control of her body and the anger and betrayal overtaking her mind.

With a speed that belied his age, the Admiral was on his feet and standing in front of the president. All the anger gone, Bill's voice was filled simply with fear as he looked into the president's eyes and willed himself not to touch her.

"Madame President, you've exhausted yourself. We should get you-"

She cut him off with a harsh laugh. "Come off it, Bill, and leave me the frak alone. You've already done enough. Suck it up and be strong enough to finish it." Pulling on her last reserves of strength, Laura turned sharply on her heel and walked assuredly to the hatch, letting it slam behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

With the clanging of the slamming hatch still reverberating in his head, Bill Adama glanced up at the clock and determined he still had a few more hours before he had to check in with CIC. Pausing for only a moment to make up his mind, he walked to his rapidly diminishing bar and poured a glass of mahogany liquid into one to the tumblers balanced on the edge.

Taking it to the couch, the weathered officer took a large swig of the liquor and let the liquid burn a soothing path down his esophagus before putting it on the table and installing his head in his hands, Laura's furious voice burning its own beat in his brain.

"_Is it because you don't believe in the Gods? Get one over on the believers by saving the dying leader? Or you wanted to play the Gods, showing the fleet that you and you alone held my life in your hands?"_

_Oh, Laura. If only I'd thought about it that much. If only that was the reason. _

"_If I did start doing the wrong things, if I suddenly wanted to jump us into a trap you knew was waiting, would you do the right thing? Would you kill me or would you try to save your damsel in distress at your own peril? At the peril of this fleet?"_

_I'd save you, Laura. I'd do anything to make sure you're alright. _

Bill paused to think about when Laura Roslin had become one of the people in his life for whom he'd throw reason out the door. It had started the moment Colonel Tigh informed him, just hours after he'd escaped Life Station, that the president had terminal breast cancer. He imagined her alone and cold and in pain on that planet and knew he had to find her, to bring the fleet back together and to make sure she was close enough to him and his ship's medical remedies to ease whatever was awaiting her.

Bill Adama was never the kind of person who could stand to see the people he cared about in pain. He grunted ruefully as he remembered fleeing the small hospital room on Caprica in which CarolAnne had endured twenty hours of labor to bring Lee into the world. As the doctors pressed hard on her stomach and pulled valiantly on the baby's barely emergent head, his wife's screams of agony enveloped the room and he had run, a coward, into the head to empty the contents of his stomach. She'd given him hell for leaving her alone in those last throes of labor and he vowed he'd never let his weakness leave someone he loved alone and in pain again.

Bill knew exactly the moment he'd decided this time that he couldn't stand by and watch a woman he cared about suffer. The first part was more in his imagination, which, his subconscious acknowledged ruefully, might have been worse than the actual event.

He'd gotten the call in CIC from Life Station that President Roslin had hours, if not minutes, to live. The Admiral wanted to tell the fleet about the condition of their beloved president. Bill wanted to be there with Laura in her final moments. He remembered quickly ordering Tigh command of the bridge and running the familiar paces to Life Station.

_The antiseptic sent of the sickbay stung his nostrils as he ran toward the curtain in the back where the president of the Twelve Colonies lay. As he got closer, he registered the frantic conversation of the medical staff and their panicked movements focused on the small form that lay writhing in the bed. _

_The president lay on her side, her eyes unfocused, emitting the most pitiful sounds he'd ever heard. Billy, his face wet with tears, had discarded his jacket and was perched on the bed by her side, drawing comforting circles on her back and whispering unheard words in the direction of her ears. Cottle had taken up position on the other side, clutching a pale hand in his. _

"_It's alright, Madame President. It's alright. The medicine will start to work soon and this will all be over. I'm so sorry, Laura. Just relax and let go. You did good, ma'am. You did your job and now the pain can stop." Jack's nicotine bruised voice cracked as he looked up and noticed the Admiral's entrance. _

_Bill barely recognized his own voice as he addressed his CMO and longtime friend. It was a stupid question, he knew it then, but the old Doctor was too respectful or too lost in his own grief to call him on it. _

"_What happened?"_

_Jack Cottle sighed. "It's over, Bill. She's been suffering all day but Gods damned stubborn woman wouldn't let me give her anything. But it's finally too much. She started screaming bloody murder, begging the Gods to make it stop. I couldn't stand it anymore and I've given her the strongest morpha I have. She'll be out soon and...she'll be gone." His voiced cracked again and he looked away, unable to bear the agony in his commanding officer's eyes along with his own. _

Bill remembered the promises he'd made to himself about what he would do to Gaius Baltar if he'd given up his last chance to comfort Laura Roslin as she died as he turned from the sad scene before him and ran toward the Vice President's office to order him to try his harebrained scheme to save the president's life.

_She was strong until the very end. She was a leader until her body wouldn't let her be. She'd just been told she had weeks at most and she gave me advice. She joked with that damned champagne bottle on the deck when she could barely hold herself up. Someone like her deserved better than to die in agony, in the arms of strangers. At the very least, she deserves to die in the arms of the man who loves her. _

Bill started at his own thought.

_Do you love her, Bill? Yes. No. Love takes time to grow, you idiot. You did it because you wanted to see if you could love her. Selfish to the end, Old Man. She would have thought about the fleet. She would have done her job. You saved her for yourself; no one else._

"Gods damn it." Bill's own, anguished voice startled him as he heard it echo in his empty cabin. He recalled Laura's damning, accusing, and painfully accurate words.

"_I know that, Bill, and that's why you are weak since Boomer shot you."_

"You've got that right, Laura. That's why you had to stay. Hate me for it until the end of time but I couldn't do this without you. You're the strong one." Bill shook his head, realizing he was talking to his empty cabin again. He stood and made his way to the drink cart again, refilling his glass and turning for a moment to his desk to judge how much work was being abandoned as he allowed himself to brood.

When he reached his chair, he noticed the familiar black bag forgotten by its owner in her fury. Caressing the handle, he turned to the clock and noted with alarm that almost two hours had passed since she'd stormed out as he had just under an hour before he had to report to CIC. His brain trying to temper down his alarm, he grabbed the comm unit and ordered a direct line to Colonial One.

An unfamiliar voice answered and Bill was momentarily thrown. "President Roslin's office. How can we help you, Admiral?"

Bill regained his voice. "I was, um, looking for Billy. The president left her bag in my office and I was surprised that no one had come to fetch it for her."

The voice on the other end, young, female, and anonymous, took on a guarded tone. "Mr. Keikaya is still with President Roslin onboard Galactica. Um...at Life Station, sir." Bill could tell the young woman was concerned he didn't know this information but immediately tried to cover up her confusion. "I'll can send someone to get the bag, Admiral Adama."

Now Bill was fully concerned and he tried to keep his voice from shaking as he spoke. "That won't be necessary. I'll take it to the president myself." He hung up the unit without waiting for a response, moving from the wall to down the drink he'd just poured in one gulp before picking up the black bag and exiting his quarters for Life Station.


	8. Chapter 8

The smell of antiseptic stung his nostrils as Bill stepped into Life Station, losing a wrestling match with his imagination as he threw off images of Laura writhing in pain in a bed in this very place.

_She's fine. Cottle got tied up and she had to wait and now she's probably in an even better mood than the last time you saw her. She'll probably actually throw you out the airlock this time rather than just threaten it. She was strong enough to knock you on your ass, Old Man. She's fine. _

His pace quickened as he made his way to the curtained area at the back of the space, the one that offered at least some semblance of privacy. Knowing the truth was better, he'd decided, than what his brain was stubbornly conjuring.

Except it wasn't. The Admiral strained his aging eyes to peek through the half drawn curtain and saw the president lying on the flimsy cot, motionless and eyes closed, with a plastic tube snaked under her nose. The fact that she was uncovered and still wearing her suit, her heels placed neatly on the floor at the end of the bed, did nothing to assuage the fear and guilt rising from his stomach to his chest.

_What did you do to her, you asshole? You should have gone after her. She was too upset to be left alone. She would have hated it. Her fury would have been better than letting her collapse. _

As Bill's wrestling bout with his imagination turned to an all-out death match he was determined to lose, the smell of cigarette smoke alerted him to Cottle's presence before the man's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"She's fine, Admiral." Cottle chuckled at the looked on his old friend's weathered face. "Gods, man, you've got it bad." Cottle's observation wasn't entirely unkind. He admired and respected Laura Roslin and wouldn't mind at all if there was someone who could see past the title to care for the woman herself. The look on his friend's face suggested he could be that person.

Bill didn't hear the insinuation or chose to ignore it. "What happened, Jack?"

"I don't know. According to Billy, I should ask you. But there's nothing wrong with her; she's just asleep."

The doctor had tracked down the young aide when a very agitated President Roslin had presented herself for her check in, alone and suffering the symptoms of what seemed to be nothing more alarming than a good old fashioned temper tantrum. The boy reported that he'd left a very pissed off president with the Admiral hours prior and Jack had for a moment prepared himself to hear on the wireless that another one of their infamous fights had nuclear consequences.

It was Bill who was agitated now, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "Why the oxygen? Is she drugged?"

The doctor had to suppress a laugh. "No, sir. Madame President is too strong now for me to dare putting her under without her consent. I put her on oxygen because she'd worked herself into quite a state and was breathing too fast for her own good. I mostly did it because I thought it might teach her to follow my instructions. But then she just fell asleep. Didn't stir the whole time I took blood and felt her up." At the Admiral's warning look, Cottle added with humor, "in the most medically professional way of course."

Bill found nothing funny about the president of the Twelve Colonies knocked unconscious by something he had done. While he wasn't quite clear on the specifics of why she was so thoroughly enraged, he knew it was his fault all the same.

"Cut the crap, Jack. Will she wake up?"

Cottle sensed the amusing conversation during which he got to rib his commanding officer about his increasingly obvious desire for the president was about to go south.

"Of course she'll wake up. You can wake her yourself if you need her. I was just going to let her rest until she woke on her own since I'm really not looking forward to what she'll do to me for keeping her off _Colonial One_ for so long. By all means, you do the honors." Cottle jerked a finger in the direction of the president and made a move to shuffle off. He was stopped by the resigned hurt in Bill's voice.

"No. I'm the last person she wants to see right now. I wouldn't want to upset her again."

Cottle turned to face the Admiral, curiosity about what the hell had happened between the two leaders overriding any fear of the things both of them could do to him if in the right mood.

"I thought you'd learned your lesson on Kobol, Bill. What exactly did you do to piss her off this time?" Cottle watched the Admiral's eyes go dark before he responded.

"I authorized Baltar to save her life. And, evidently, she'll never forgive me." Bill added rendering her senseless to the list of sins that he'd committed against Laura Roslin that was rapidly growing in his mind as he shot another glance at her sleeping just yards away.

Doctor Cottle took a moment to puzzle over his friend's words. He knew that President Roslin was unsettled by the means of her cure but, hell, so was he. But her unlikely rise to power and the subsequent ease with which she wielded it had shown them all that she didn't falter when faced with unexpected burdens. If he knew Laura Roslin, which he did as only a patient's doctor could, she was readying herself for the next battle. She was not one to dwell on the past. She couldn't afford to.

"Bill, what else happened?" Cottle asked, his voice more gentle than most people ever heard it.

Adama scoffed. "Nothing. I mean I yelled at those insects we call reporters when they were stressing her out and the next thing I knew she was dragging me back to my quarters and threatening to airlock me."

Cottle started to piece together the picture. The argument about the president staying on Galactica. The fight over using the wheelchair. Some strange incident that reportedly took place the hallway, recounted by a pilot who'd been headed to Life Station when he saw it, in which the president had to order the Admiral to drop his death grip on his adopted daughter.

"Bill, did you talk to her before her press conference? About what she was going to say?"

"No. She was in no condition to be holding that damn press conference in the first place." Bill sounded slightly confused about the direction of this conversation but Cottle continued, sure he had a point and determined to follow it.

"Have you talked to her about anything since she…" He trailed off. He was too much of a scientist to call whatever had spared Laura Roslin a miracle and too much her vigilant doctor to call it a cure. Yet. "Have you talked to her since her life was spared about anything other than how much she should be resting and when she should eat?"

Bill considered the question, still not understanding why any of this mattered. "No. She was too weak to be dealing with fleet business. My only concern was making sure she didn't overdo it."

Cottle sighed and looked over at the curtained area, his gaze not on the president but the young man hunched over a pile of files sitting a few feet from the bed. He'd learned in the few dark, presumed last days the president endured that the boy could be more formidable than either the Admiral or the president if her comfort was at stake.

"Alright, Bill. My office before we wake her and that kid of hers kills us both." He'd turned his white coat clad back to the Admiral without waiting for a response, a smile playing at his lips.

Bill followed and was grateful for the glass of Galactica's finest the doctor offered before ordering him into a chair and settling into his own, lighting a cigarette to brace himself for the coming conversation.

Bill looked at his chief medical officer with a hint of amusement and concern. The last time the two men had shared a drink the doctor had scolded him for exhausting the president by helping her visit the prisoner in the brig. But long before that they'd shared many and Bill had always left with a few things about his own character to chew on. He had a sneaking suspicion the latter was what the Major had in mind.

"Do you know what happened that day she collapsed, Bill?" Bill blinked. He knew full well what had happened when the president was rushed to Life Station for what everyone thought was the final time.

"The one that was broadcast on the wireless, Bill," Cottle clarified before continuing. "She accidentally overdosed on chamalla. It scared her. She would never admit it but it did. But she ordered me to give her a shot to get her on her feet and she did that damn press conference when she could barely stand. I told her that day she wouldn't be able to hide what she was going through forever. But she was determined to do it alone. Hell, she was determined to do everything alone."

He paused to allow Bill to process the nuance to a situation he'd long forgotten.

"I don't know what happened on Kobol but after you two made up in front of the fleet, she was different. I can't quite say how but she certainly wasn't alone anymore. She had a partner and, while I bet she never told you, she was grateful to you for supporting her while also trusting her to do her job."

The Admiral studied his hands, remembering the day she'd returned _Dark Day_ and then proceeded to give him wise advice about trusting the Cylon Sharon. He was glad he'd given Laura some comfort but he wasn't sure where this was going.

"Are you circling in on a point here, Jack?" He shot his friend a look that was met with a roll of the eyes.

"Yeah, Bill. The point is that you've left her alone again."

Bill's eyes widened in surprise. "You should talk to Saul about that, Doc. He's the one who covered my shifts while I was sitting with her after she came back to us. I've been in your Life Station more this past week than the entire time I've had command."

Cottle rubbed out his cigarette in a bowl on his desk. "Yeah, you've been hovering over her constantly. That's not what I mean. She practically came back from the dead because of some crazy miracle cure you authorized that involved a Cylon fetus she'd told you to abort. She had to come to terms with that while also figuring out how to tell the fleet that their Dying Leader was alive and healthy as a horse. She needed her partner to talk it out with her and you refused to help. You were trying to do my job instead."

An embarrassed look crossed Bill's face as he digested what he heard. He'd never thought the president couldn't do her job but her fury earlier in the day made a lot more sense now that he realized the story his behavior likely told to Laura.

Jack's voice surprised him out of his thoughts.

"Do you love her, Bill?" The Admiral looked back at him in surprise. He'd asked himself the same question earlier but he'd never expected to hear it out loud.

"I've seen the way you look at her. You could love her if you don't already," Cottle said as he filled the silence with an answer to his own question.

Bill nodded, unsure enough of what his voice might betray to try to use it.

Cottle nodded back, a small smile on his lips. "Then fix it. She's got a doctor, a damn good one if I do say so myself, and a kid who will do anything in the worlds to make sure she doesn't overdo it. She needs her partner back. Don't deprive her of that just because you're scared you might lose her again. She can handle it, we both know that, but why should she have to? For that matter, why should you have to either?"

Doc had a point, Bill knew. He'd run the same line of thought through his head at least a dozen times since that night he'd kissed her on Colonial One. Yes, she was the president and he was the Admiral and that would undoubtedly be a problem. But another problem with those two titles is that neither of them could truly turn to anyone else. Before, it had been a moot point. Over the last week, he'd let himself imagine a dozen ways he might broach the subject of the kiss with Laura, at some point, when she was stronger. Now, with her furious at him and, he realized, with good reason, it might be too late.

He noticed Cottle watching him. "Well, Jack, I think I frakked that one up good. You should have heard her today. She really doesn't want anything to do with me anymore," Bill said, voice laced with regret.

"Since when do you give up that easily? Talk to her. You know she's always raring for a fight after a press conference and you were just dumb enough to give her a punching bag."

Bill considered his CMO's words. Laura was always...keyed up...after press conferences and, earlier antics aside, she was rarely out of control without reason. Still, he knew he couldn't force her to talk to him without stoking her fury further.

"Maybe," Bill said noncommittally, "but it will have to wait until I have a real reason to talk with her. She'll see through any other attempt and knock me on my ass."

_Again. _

Jack Cottle's eyes gleamed mischievously as he stood up abruptly. "I've got an idea to help you, Bill, though Gods know why I have to play your wingman at this age." He moved from behind the desk to settle his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Come on, Admiral. Just play along. Let's go wake your sleeping beauty." Without waiting for a retort, he shuffled to the door and opened it for the Admiral. He grabbed a yellow gown from the shelf just outside the office and walked toward the curtain shielding the president of the Twelve Colonies. Bill followed, trying to hide his confusion.

_Could this day get any longer?_


	9. Chapter 9

"Madame President?" Jack's voice was gentle as he tried to rouse his patient.

Bill stood back, almost hidden by the curtain, as he watched the interaction intently, his eyes trained on Laura's fluttering, delicate eyelids.

He'd discovered while sitting with the president during her recovery that the few precious moments after Laura Roslin opened her eyes, still lingering between sleep and consciousness, were the only ones in which she was completely unguarded and an astonishing number of emotions flashed through her green orbs before she pulled on her presidential mask.

He lapped the flashes up like ambrosia, agonizing at how often pain, fear, and confusion made an appearance in the early days and delighting when comfort, relief, and playfulness greeted her entry into consciousness more regularly. And once, after one of those times he'd heard her softly call his name, he could have sworn he saw desire before she recognized his presence and settled him with a content smile. That little interaction had played in his mind far more times than was proper.

_Even if she was dreaming about you, she's certainly not now. _

Bill tried to think optimistically about Jack's still unknown plan to set things right between himself and Laura but all thoughts left his mind as the president finally responded to her title and opened her eyes.

_Anger. Pain. Confusion. Fear. Anger, probably at me. She probably doesn't know where she is and that scares her. Why is she in pain?_

Laura emitted a small gasp as she registered the familiar surroundings. Her hand flew to the oxygen tube on her face and she shot a pleading look at the doctor, silently demanding an explanation.

"You're perfectly alright, young lady. Let me get that off of you. You remember coming in here to get looked over?" She nodded as he unhooked the tube from a nearby valve and unlaced it from her face, carefully avoiding a tangle with the locks splayed across the pillow.

"You fell asleep." Jack realized she was looking over his shoulder and moved a bit to let her see the Admiral, standing frozen in place, her black purse hanging casually over his arm.

It occurred to Laura to laugh, at the stoic military commander who looked like a frightened wounded puppy with a matching women's purse accessory and with relief that she was, in fact, no longer condemned to Life Station. She remembered the earlier fight and groaned inwardly. She was still pissed at him, to be sure, but she was almost angrier at herself for so thoroughly losing control.

_I haven't snapped like that since college, when Chris Stevenson dumped me for Callie Parenti in front of his whole fraternity. You're far too old to flip out when a man rejects you, Laura._

_Oh Gods. What if it's the Cylon blood? Irrational behavior as a side effect?_

_Fabulous, Laura. You're falling in love with your Admiral or you're turning into a Cylon. _

Laura started at her own thought. She quickly decided it would be easier to deal with the latter than the former. That had a simple solution, albeit an unpleasant one. The other presented endless problems.

"Madame President?" Laura noticed that Billy had come to her side, the worried look on his face shared by the two other men in the room.

"Billy, sorry. Was lost in my thoughts." She widened her gaze to include Cottle. "Doctor, thank you for your hospitality, as always. I'll get out of your hair and back to my ship. Billy, would you get my shoes and relieve the Admiral of my bag, please?" She made to shift herself off the bed but Jack stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I never said you could go, young lady. You put your recovery in danger today when you decided to do a press conference and then get yourself so worked up you almost hyperventilated. You're incredibly lucky you didn't pass out in the hall. I'm keeping you here on this ship tonight to make sure there are no unexpected consequences from your exploits." He held up the yellow gown, still glaring down at her. "I was waking you to check on you and see if you wanted to sleep in something more comfortable."

Laura looked at the gown and at Cottle, meeting his glare with one of her own. "Oh, no. No way. I'm perfectly fine, you just said so yourself, and I'm going back to _Colonial One_. I'm not military and you can't keep me here against my will."

"No, but if you try to leave this ship, I'll tell the next reporter who calls, and you know my phone has been ringing off the hook, that you're unfit for office." The look of horror that passed across Laura's face at the threat was surpassed only by the one sported by Billy.

Bill, watching the encounter impassively, was in fact keeping up. Jack had said "this ship" rather than Life Station.

Laura, lips pursed and anger flashing in her eyes, turned from the old doctor and settled her gaze on Bill, addressing him directly for the first time.

"Oh, Bill, help me here. I'm fine and I hate this place. It's so cold and sterile and...I can't stay in the place where I almost died! Please, help me talk some sense into him." Laura's voice was soft and had a pleading note to it.

The politician felt ashamed for a moment, playing on the Admiral's concern for her to get what she wanted so soon after absolutely eviscerating him for that very concern, but she refused to be held hostage in the place she'd so recently escaped.

Bill heard Laura but realized the fear in her voice didn't reach her eyes and saw that he was in fact being played by President Roslin. Far from annoying him, he was relieved and slightly amused.

_I'll play you, you play me. At least we know how this particular dance goes. _

"Madame President, I would never do anything to jeopardize your recovery but, Jack, it does seem a little harsh. What if I offered the president the use of my quarters? She'll be just down the hall if she needs to come back here. She can come see you in the morning and then return to her ship." Bill played his part, waiting for the doctor to pick up his line.

Jack paused, pretending to consider the compromise. "I don't know. You got her so riled up earlier. I'd really rather have her here."

Laura watched the exchange, a bit overwhelmed by this turn of events. She'd expected the Admiral to react to her fear and help get her exactly what she wanted. Not that going back to his quarters sounded unpleasant. It sounded wonderful and that was exactly what worried her.

"I'll be good, I promise," Laura purred at the doctor. "Just down the hall. You can come and make sure we're behaving if you feel like it."

_Behaving? What the hell do you think is going to happen, Laura? _

Cottle rolled his eyes dramatically and threw up his hands. "Fine. Go annoy him rather than me. But if you start to feel sick at all, call me. And you will report right back here in the morning. Do you understand, Madame President?"

She nodded eagerly and looked to Billy, who immediately retrieved her heels from the foot of the bed. Both older men watched with wonder as she allowed him to gently slip them on her feet without protest.

Jack looked at Bill, a conspiratorial smile threatening to ruin his exasperated facade. "A word, Admiral, about our patient's care." He hooked a finger back toward his office and Bill followed him as he brushed past the curtain.

The doctor paused in front of several plastic drawers a few feet from his office door, opened one, and pulled out an orange bottle of small white pills.

"Alright, she's all yours. You owe me one, buddy. Don't get her upset again. Remember what I said. Laura Roslin is the kind of woman who will only be vulnerable with you if you convince her you know and appreciate her strength."

Bill almost rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Jack, for the help and the lesson in psychology. What are those for?" He pointed at the pills in his friend's hand. "I'm not planning on needing to drug her."

Jack handed him the pills with a chuckle. "Yes, I'd advise against that, sir. She's still pretty sore, though Gods know she'd never tell anyone. See if you can't get her to take two of these. She'll be a whole lot less cranky, which is good news for everyone."

_Especially you._

Bill took the pills with a smile, putting them in his pocket. "So say we all." He turned back toward the curtain, pausing to pat the doctor on the shoulder. "Thanks again, Jack."

The men returned to find the president sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed in deep conversation with Billy. They both looked up as Bill came to stand on her other side.

"Ready, Madame President?" She nodded and took both offered arms to stand. Much to her dismay, the familiar vertigo reared its head and she clenched her eyes shut involuntarily.

"Gods damn dizziness," she muttered, a look of frustration on her face.

"Deep breaths. It will pass," Bill said softly and casually, his mouth just inches from her ear. No one noticed Dr. Cottle's approving smile.

Laura took Bill's advice, my own advice from earlier, she thought stubbornly, and when she opened her eyes, her equilibrium had returned. Despite a nagging pain in her ribs, she was pleased to find that it felt great to stand.

"Alright. Let's go." She turned to Billy. "Would you mind going back to Colonial One and getting some of my things together?"

Billy nodded. He was a little miffed by the scene he'd just witnessed. The woman leaning on Bill's arm, a little closer than usual, seemed like a different person than the one he'd left with the Admiral hours earlier. Now she seemed to want to melt into him rather than kill him.

_I really know nothing about women._

Billy headed in one direction and the Admiral, a black bag once again slung over his arm, led the president in the other.

Jack Cottle watched the retreat as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Lighting it, he let the smile he'd been hiding dance on his lips.

_The Old Man and the president. Who would have thought?_


	10. Chapter 10

Both the Admiral and the president were relieved when they reached his quarters without incident. He motioned to the marines stationed outside the hatch and a gloved hand swung it open, revealing the soft, warm light of the sanctuary within.

Bill ushered the president inside, a hand protectively on the small of her back, and she sighed contentedly as she waited for him to secure the hatch. Bracing herself on the wall, she slipped off her pumps and kicked them casually to the side.

He turned to her, chuckling at the familiarity of the ritualistic removal of her torturous shoes. That had started early in their friendship and he liked the trust it indicated.

"Would you like to lie down?" He waved a hand in the direction of the rack in his private bedroom.

She shook her head. "I can't sleep anymore right now. Sit with me and talk for a bit?"

Bill had expected this and was leading her toward the couch before the sentence was complete. He helped her settle into the soft leather folds and tried to ignore the slight wince that accompanied the motion. He couldn't help but smile, however, when she settled her head back, closed her eyes, and hummed contentedly.

Gazing at her unabashedly, he remembered that he needed to call Saul and ask him to take yet another one of his shifts. He knew there would be little protest - the Colonel had been working overtime to earn his friend's forgiveness for his actions during his turn at the helm.

"I'm going to go check in with CIC. Do you need anything, Madame President?"

Eyes still closed, she mumbled a "no" and he left her alone with her thoughts.

Laura ordered her brain to prepare itself for the coming conversation rather than focusing on the absurdly pleasant feel of the warm cabin that smelled intoxicatingly like Bill. The way this place made her feel, the way he made her feel while here, was a not small part of her concerns.

The speed with which their relationship had become increasingly intimate over the past few weeks both frightened and exhilarated her. She worried about what the crew and medics thought as he began spending more time sitting with her in Life Station than was appropriate for the president and the Admiral. His blunt and overbearing protectiveness extended beyond professional friendship and, in her mind, she'd not done enough to reject it.

In truth, he made her feel like Laura rather than the president and, in the days following a cure that shook her faith in herself and the world, she needed that more than ever. The fact that he'd ordered that cure and then repeatedly insinuated he'd done it because she was a "valuable fleet asset" confused her to no end. And then there was the kiss.

She felt the couch sink under his weight and his eyes studying her before she heard his voice.

"I can almost hear you thinking," he chided gently. When she opened her eyes, she could have sworn she saw apprehension swimming in his.

_No point in putting this off any longer. _

She straightened her posture and reached for her glasses tucked in the nape of her blouse. Adjusting them on her face, she addressed him.

"Yes. I've been thinking a lot, Admiral." She paused, wording her opening question carefully. "Bill, why am I here?"

He knew she wasn't asking about the events of the day that brought her to his couch. He sighed. He was looking forward to the most optimistic outcome of this conversation but not the discussion itself.

"I owe you an apology, Madame President. I made a decision about your health, one that I knew at the time that you might not like. I understood then and understand now that you might not be able to forgive me." His tone was soft, like a congregant waiting for priestly admonishment.

Laura considered his response. "You told me once that you don't like navel gazing and I myself don't like to dwell on things that can't be changed. I'm more interested in understanding why decisions were made so we can learn from them." It was as close to forgiveness as he would get just yet.

He nodded and looked down to study the imperfections in the worn leather between them.

"It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. When Baltar brought me the information, I had no idea what to do. I agonized until it was almost too late. I knew you probably wouldn't want me to do it, that you'd consider the risk to the fleet over your own life. But my own indecision, my own weakness in that moment is what finally tipped my hand." He looked up, and saw the president's raised eyebrow, silently encouraging him to continue.

He sighed. "Over the past few months, I've come to rely on your advice and your insight. I'm a better leader when you're there to counter me. Your courage as a match to my tendency toward the sentimental. My experience as a compliment to your unwavering devotion to the people. I chose to let Baltar try to spare your life because I believe the fleet is better off when we're making decisions, together." He looked up to gauge Laura's response but her face was impassive.

Internally, Laura was torn between adoring the man for his vulnerability and the high esteem in which he obviously held her abilities and hating him for confirming that the decision came down to seeing her as a valuable fleet asset.

_You can't have this both ways, Laura. Right?_

"So, when you kissed me, it was all for the good of the fleet too?" Her tone is playful but when he looks up to meet her eyes he sees the question in them. He wants to dare to see hope in them as well.

He shook his head resolutely, never breaking eye contact. "I kissed you because I wanted to, Laura." His leans forward as he speaks and Laura is torn between wanting him to kiss her again and leaping up from the couch before this goes too far.

She looks away. He's not coming any closer and she knows the ball is in her court. Laura, the woman, knows what she wants. But the events of the day and the soft, loving look in Bill's eyes scares the president. She knows now that he will do anything for her and anything could easily include harming thousands of people if he thought she were in danger.

Laura sighs.

_This is dangerous. He would have killed Kara today and she wasn't even a real threat. And you completely lost control when he upset you. This is already burning too hot and there is no 'this.' This is a bad idea and you know it. _

"Bill, you know we can't, our jobs…" Her soft voice is cut off by a banging on the hatch and Bill smiles, her almost certain rejection interrupted, at least for the moment.

"That boy of yours has impeccable timing," he says, eyes twinkling as he lifts himself up off the couch and turns toward the hatch.

Laura sinks back against the leather again. Her body is aching and her mind is racing and she doesn't know if she has the strength to deny him again.

_Just tell him you don't feel the same way, Laura. Just tell him you can't do this. You can't be this irresponsible. No matter how much you want to be._


End file.
